by Maureen George 'Counting calories I'm afraid it's got to be,'' Said the nurse at the clinic as she weighed me. 'Just a few pounds that's all it will take, You'll feel much better with a little less weight.' I looked down at the scales to that bright red arrow, Remembering for lunch I'd had a stuffed marrow. I ask, "How come I always weigh more at the clinic?" The nurse glares at me, I'm sure she's a cynic. "At home my scales state I'm five pounds lighter," I say to the nurse whose built like a sumo fighter. "I'm always busy, spend all day on my feet." She scowls, "It's not what you do it's what you eat." "Counting calories my girl, the only thing to do, Less fat on your plate means less fat on you." Considering she looked like a whale just beached, I felt like saying, do you practice what you preach? "Eat salads for tea, lean ham and crispbread, Cut out the butter and have low fat spread," I watch her scribble my name in black ink, Before dunking her dognut in a hot chocolate drink. "Take this leaflet, " she say's "it's easier than one thinks, Cut out the cakes the biscuits and alcohol drinks. Anyone can do it - it's a case of will power." She states quite firmly and I feel myself cower. One foot off the scales and the arrow drops back, Half of me weighs right it's the other half that's fat. I look at the nurse who would make four of me, I've decided - fish, chips and treacle tart for tea!
The end